by Mel Odom
The priestess swam from the others, trying to escape the blaze that consumed her. The water boiled around her, giving off terrible heat that coasted on the currents sweeping over Laaqueel. The malenti priestess watched in quiet shock as white foam from the boiling sea water and green flames consumed the priestess. Seconds later, the priestess’s blackened bones drifted to the amphitheater floor. Her flesh was entirely consumed.
Quiet reigned over the amphitheater.
Little malenti, Iakhovas said gently into her mind, you have their complete and undivided attention.
Gathering her own composure, Laaqueel saw that it was true. Wariness gleamed in the black eyes of the priestesses before her.
“You, who are supposed to be the backbone of Sekolah’s worship in your tribes, baronies, and kingdom,” Laaqueel accused, “choose to be silent about Sekolah’s teachings in this time of greatest need.”
“Not true,” one of the oldest priestesses stated.
Two of the sharks circling overhead under the control of sahuagin warriors broke ranks. Before anyone could say anything in warning, the predators ripped into the Serôsian priestess.
The first shark chewed the priestess’s face from her skull in passing while the other disemboweled her. The sharks returned to their positions overhead.
Laaqueel glanced at Iakhovas.
It’s no work of mine, little malenti. His human face, when she saw it, even held a trace of suspicious hostility.
Laaqueel had no doubt that he’d taken part in neither attack. It was something else, something divine. She was certain of it. Feeling more confident, she returned her attention to the priestesses.
“If you don’t live and teach as the Great Shark would have you,” Laaqueel preached, “live in fear of Sekolah’s wrath. As always, the weak will be culled from true warriors. So shall it be for the priestesses who stand in the way of the path the Shark God has chosen.”
With fierce gazes and open hatred, the priestesses bowed their heads in acknowledgment.
Savage pride burned through Laaqueel. As she took her place at Iakhovas’s side, she held her head high.
You’ve acquitted yourself well, little malenti, Iakhovas sent her, though I’d like to speak on this matter later, and at greater length. We are still not out of danger here.
Even that did not dissuade Laaqueel from the joy she felt. Sekolah had defended her, stepping in and destroying the priestesses who challenged her. It was unheard of.
“Warriors make war,” Iakhovas roared. “Leaders lead.” He spun slowly in the amphitheater, his arms thrust straight out and his claws fully extended. “When I first arrived here, I declared myself as your deliverer, the one who would set you free. I have not done that yet.”
Laaqueel glanced at the princes as they conferred among themselves. They knew where Iakhovas was headed as well as she did. There was nothing they could do to prevent it.
“I tore down the Sharksbane Wall,” Iakhovas said. “I opened a path to the outer Serôsian world, to the seas the surface worlders depend on.”
Clicks and whistles of agreement echoed around the amphitheater.
“But I failed to truly set you free,” Iakhovas went on. “I left, handling errands of my own, taking the first steps to build We Who Eat a conflagration that would end the empires of our enemies, to leave them broken and shattered in our wake. I will not fail you again. I will be the king that you deserve, the one who will make savage warriors of you all in name and in deed.”
The shrill sahuagin applause rippled across the amphitheater, growing steadily.
“No!”
The hoarse shout rang over the amphitheater. Laaqueel felt the movement along her lateral lines. She turned and found Maartaaugh striding toward Iakhovas.
“You will not be king here,” Maartaaugh swore. “You are not from our sea. You are not of our heritage. You will not usurp our waters.”
Silence immediately filled the waters as the sahuagin audience waited to see what would happen. Only the throbbing crescendo of the whale song continued unabated.
“Would you die then, Maartaaugh?” Iakhovas asked. “Would you challenge me and lose your life as Toomaaek did, unable to even fight for your people or the place they deserve in Serôs?”
Maartaaugh slammed the butt of his trident against the inset stones that made up the amphitheater’s floor.
“I will not die,” the prince said. “Aleaxtis will have one of its own as king.”
“I would kill you,” Iakhovas stated flatly. “I would rend your flesh from your bones and feed it to those you claim to lead.”
“That remains to be seen.”
Maartaaugh’s courage held him despite the carnage he had seen Iakhovas do.
Laaqueel felt the tension in the water, could feel Maartaaugh’s heart beating rapidly through her lateral lines. Surely Sekolah’s will would be served now.
“If you wish to dispute my right to the throne,” Iakhovas said in a soft, deadly voice, “then I will name the challenge.”
Maartaaugh nodded.
Iakhovas swung to the crowd. “In order to prove my worth—to become your king, to take upon myself the right to lead you in your greatest battle—I will slay the Great Whale Bard who even now blocks passage through the Sharksbane Wall.”
Excited conversation started up again.
“If I can’t do what I say,” Iakhovas went on, “then let me die as Sekolah would have me: clawing at the face of an enemy.” With noble grace, he spun back around to Maartaaugh. “If you wish, I will give you the honor of trying to slay the Great Whale Bard first.”
“No,” Maartaaugh replied in a quiet voice.
“Then agree to my terms,” Iakhovas said. “If I kill the Great Whale Bard and end the threat of the whale song that attacks this place, you will recognize me as king and serve as my grand champion, to renounce and combat any who would attack or challenge me.”
Maartaaugh hesitated only a moment, and Laaqueel knew it was because the warrior tried to find a loophole in Iakhovas’s offer.
“I will,” the prince answered.
“Good,” Iakhovas said.
“When will you attempt this?” Ruubuuiz asked.
“Now,” Iakhovas said. “There is a war to be fought, and I will tolerate no waiting.”
He turned and leaped away, pausing when he was twenty feet above the amphitheater floor.
Laaqueel swam up beside him, seeing him totally in the sahuagin illusion now. He was a proud warrior, his fins flared out and his chest puffed up, gripping the trident in one fist and his crown seated on his broad head. One eye held a golden gleam.
“I am Iakhovas!” he roared. “I am destined to be your king!”
The sahuagin crowd exploded into movement. They slapped their feet against the stones and whistled and clicked in full support. There were even comments from some that Iakhovas was Daganisoraan, the greatest sahuagin warrior of all, reborn.
“Iakhovas!” some of them began to chant. “Defender and king! Iakhovas!”
“I will bring you victory!” Iakhovas declared. “Meat is meat!”
“Meat is meat!” the crowd roared back.
“It looks like they’re waiting for something,” Sabyna said.
She kept a low profile on the hill overlooking the stretch of coastline below her.
“Something,” Glawinn replied, “or someone.”
The paladin lay beside her on the hard, rocky ground. He wore hunter’s leather instead of his armor and carried his sword in a plain scabbard.
“They could be waiting for Vurgrom to join them,” Azla added. She lay in the tall grass on the other side of the paladin, the spyglass they’d been sharing pulled tight to her eye. “Or perhaps they’re putting in to harbor for a few days to join him at a later time.”
Irritated at the position they’d been thrust into, Sabyna glared at the pirates. The pirate ship Brave Wager rested at anchor in the small, natural harbor. Her sails were furled around her masts, looking for
all the world like she was an innocent merchanter taking advantage of a brief respite before sailing dangerous waters again.
Part of the crew maintained lean-tos on the shore under broad-leafed trees. Blackened pits showed where they’d roasted wild pigs and deer they’d brought back from the forest surrounding the harbor. Fishing and crabbing were plentiful as well.
Azla’s charts called this island, which lay to the southwest of Agenais, either Zagrus or Kloccbarn, as if the cartographer was unable to chose one name or the other.
After Sabyna returned to Azure Dagger and told her story of the men she’d seen at the apothecary’s, Azla continued work on the ship. When Azure Dagger was fit for sailing a few days later, her replaced masts securely in place and completely outfitted, they’d gone sailing, using the enchanted astrolabe as a guide.
Vurgrom’s ship maintained a steady route in the sea way between the Whamite Isles and Turmish, gliding as restlessly as a shark. Even as they prepared to set an intercept course for Maelstrom, one of Azla’s crew spotted Brave Wager in the distance.
Rather than risk getting caught between the two ships they knew of, and perhaps more, Azla decided to wait Brave Wager out and see if they couldn’t gather more information on what Vurgrom was doing.
While they’d been in port at Agenais, stories continued flowing in from new arrivals. Sahuagin, koalinth, morkoth, and other sea species continued to raid the surface world nations and take ships. Their goal appeared to be to rid the Sea of Fallen Stars of anything that traveled over the water.
Some of the sea captains even brought news that uneasy alliances between the surface world nations were starting to unravel as realms in turn accused other realms of being involved in the sea-spawned threat. Assassins were rumored to ply their trade on and off the sea. There were still others who insisted the assassins were hired by the different aquatic races.
Trade routes and communication lanes broke down. The Sea of Fallen Stars became a battlefield, something it hadn’t been in over four hundred years.
“I’ve got to get back to my ship,” Azla announced. “There’s still some trim and other work I want to see to while we’re here.” She passed the spyglass over to Glawinn, who thanked her for the loan. “Let me know if anything develops.”
“I will, lady,” the paladin promised.
Sabyna rolled up into a sitting position, still behind the brush and below the ledge so the pirates couldn’t see her. She wrapped her arms around her legs and held them tightly. “I’ll stay here as well.”
Azla nodded. “I’ll have two men spell you when it gets dark.” She turned and walked away, making her way carefully down the hillside.
Wanting to take advantage of the waning sunlight, Sabyna took out her book of spells and spent time trying to study. Glawinn lay across the ridge, as calm and still as any animal that made its home in the forest. The ship’s mage found that irritating.
“Is something wrong, lady?”
“I want to know Jherek is all right.” It had been nearly two tendays since she’d last seen him.
“You can look to your own heart for that.”
“So you say.”
“Trust me, lady. When you feel as drawn to someone as you do to the young warrior, you’ll know when something happens to him.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it has happened to me.”
Startled and embarrassed at her own thoughtlessness, Sabyna glanced up at the paladin. His dark eyes were filled with old pain that time failed to erase.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“As am I.” Glawinn returned his attention to the spyglass and said, “Sometimes, in order to love fully and completely, you have to let the other go. When they return, you’ll find the bond between you is even stronger.”
“I don’t know that he will be back. There seems to be so much distance between us.”
“Trust,” Glawinn urged. “It’s all you can do.”
“I prefer a much more active solution.”
“Then study, lady, that you may get better at your own skills,” the paladin suggested. “Wherever you go, however this may turn out between you and the young warrior, you need to be as strong as you can be.”
Reluctantly, Sabyna took out her book again and applied herself to her studies. Still, she felt as though she were on the edge of the world, peering down into a bottomless abyss.
“We’ve not seen the worst of this yet, have we?” she asked.
“No,” Glawinn replied softly. “No, lady, I’m afraid we haven’t.”
Laaqueel stood on Tarjana’s deck and stared at the Great Whale Bard. The creature floated in the currents before the broken section of the Sharksbane Wall, flanked by other whales. The great whale was over four hundred feet long from its blunt head to its tail flukes. Gray-blue skin stood out against the blue-green sea so it looked more like a shadow than a solid thing. The whale song continued to echo in shrill squeaks and moans around Hunter’s Ridge
He knows you’re coming, she told Iakhovas when he joined her.
Of course he does. Iakhovas looked at her and grinned. Can’t you smell the fear on him, little malenti?
Laaqueel said nothing. She couldn’t smell fear from the great whale, but she sensed the anticipation from the sahuagin who ringed the mountains around her. Not far away, Maartaaugh and Ruubuuiz stood together, out of safe crossbow shot from the few sea elves that still manned the makeshift garrison.
Iakhovas held a harpoon in one fist. The thick shaft bore runes etched in black. The metal blade gleamed as though a fresh edge had just been put on it.
Why didn’t you challenge Maartaaugh and be done with it? Laaqueel asked. You could have beaten him easily.
Little malenti, Iakhovas said patiently, there is still much you have to learn when it comes to leading warriors. In Waterdeep, though our forces were turned away, we killed many of our enemies, destroyed their boats, and burned their buildings and homes. Though it was a loss in some respects, I taught We Who Eat of the Claarteeros Sea that they could win. They knew before that they could fight the surface world, but never before had they known they could win.
The whale song continued unabated, throbbing through the water, racing with the currents. It was hard for Laaqueel to stand there and take the whale’s abuse. A few of the sahuagin who came from Vahaxtyl to watch succumbed to the whale song’s thrall and returned to their city.
Once I gave them that, Iakhovas continued, Baldur’s Gate could not stand against them. The Great Whale Bard will be Serôs’ Waterdeep. It will teach these warriors here that anything is possible, and it will give notice to the sea elves and others that would stand in our way. He grinned, and his golden eye gleamed. What other creature can sing its death song the length and breadth of the Sea of Fallen Stars?
Iakhovas signaled to one of the sahuagin warriors in Tarjana’s stern. The warrior started beating the drum brought up from belowdecks. The basso booms echoed through the water, partially masking the whale song.
The sahuagin warriors aboard the mudship picked up the rhythm, slapping their webbed feet against the deck, creating hollow detonations that amplified the frenetic beat. Within the space of a few heartbeats, the sahuagin warriors along Hunter’s Ridge picked up the rhythm as well, slapping their hands and feet against the ocean floor or banging rocks together.
Wish me well, little malenti.
Iakhovas leaped off the mudship. His illusion as a sahuagin warrior for the moment was complete. Not even Laaqueel could tell he was anything else.
He swam strongly, straight for the waiting whales as if propelled by the savage beat of the sahuagin. The long harpoon stayed close at his side.
Just over the broken section of the Sharksbane Wall, unchallenged by the sea elves who knew they were not his targets, Iakhovas halted in the water. He was less than a hundred feet from the Great Whale Bard.
“I am Iakhovas!” he roared. “And I will be your death!”
He swam straight
at the great whale like a crossbow bolt.
XVII
2 Eleasias, the Year of the Gauntlet
Confusion consumed Laaqueel’s thoughts as she watched Iakhovas close on the Great Whale Bard. The confrontation with the priestesses of Vahaxtyl weighed heavily on her mind. The closest Sekolah came to involving himself in his children’s worship of him was when he sent avatars to inspire their blood frenzy, and that almost never happened.
Though she believed Iakhovas when he said he played no part in the matter, she couldn’t help questioning whether her defense had come from Sekolah. She couldn’t answer why the Shark God would choose to defend a malenti priestess. Malenti birth was only a sign that the sahuagin lived too close to the sea elves, their sworn enemies. There was nothing positive about being a malenti, nothing in their scriptures to suggest that Sekolah would show any kind of special interest.
Her line of thinking pointed her back to Iakhovas. Either he had engineered the priestesses’ deaths and gotten away with lying to her, or he was as important to Sekolah’s bloody designs as he said he was. Laaqueel’s faith was torn in both directions. She was afraid to believe and fool herself, and afraid not to believe and take away the last vestiges of herself she had left, trapped by her own need for understanding.
She stood on Tarjana’s deck amid the sahuagin warriors as they kept up the frantic rhythm and watched Iakhovas approach the Great Whale Bard.
The whale song boomed through the water, partially obscured by the throbbing sahuagin beat. The Great Whale Bard shifted only slightly to face his approaching foe.
Taker.
The whale’s voice rolled like thunder through Laaqueel’s mind. From the way the sahuagin stopped slapping their hands and feet and rocks, the malenti priestess knew they’d all heard it too.
“Death,” Iakhovas snarled, not slowing his pace toward the giant creature. The great whale was nearly fifty times bigger than Iakhovas.
There is only belief. High Priestess Ghaataag had told Laaqueel that when the young malenti was first accepted into Sekolah’s temple. Belief made a priestess strong, while knowledge took strength away. Never before had Laaqueel so fully understood that insight.
